


good together

by yoogiboobi



Series: a place to return to [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, and soft tomfoolery in general, and tipsy sex, featuring the shapely wonders of miya atsumu’s body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoogiboobi/pseuds/yoogiboobi
Summary: “Shinsuke...” Atsumu presses his name firmly against his ear this time, so close Shinsuke can hear the wet movement of his lips and tongue, can feel his searing hot breath against his skin.Shinsuke blinks, almost like he’s been roused from sleep.“Yes, Atsumu?”“My eyes are up here.”—Shinsuke has every intention of sleeping—until he doesn’t.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Series: a place to return to [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974127
Comments: 21
Kudos: 192





	good together

**Author's Note:**

> some fun, to change up the rhythm a lil bit! the filth isn't that~ explicit or detailed, i tried to write it in a style that'd fit w the rest of the series but i'm not sure if i succeeded hah
> 
> a little note on their dialects: you might notice i've chosen to forgo the usual "yer", "ya", etc. their kansai dialect is still very much there, and if i could write japanese, i'd most definitely write it properly, but, at the end of the day, giving them a random english accent just feels increasingly useless for me. therefore, i've chosen not to use it at all, and i probably won't do so in my future works as well. (i should probably edit it out of my previous works, at least for this series ;;)

—

“They’re good together, aren’t they? Rin and Osamu.”

Shinsuke ponders the matter aloud as he pours two glasses of water. One cup is for him; the water is cold when he sips at it, a stark contrast to his warm, almost dormant insides. The other he hands to Atsumu.

It’s late, past midnight. They’re standing in the kitchen in their outside clothes, barefoot, just arrived from dinner at a roadside restaurant with the best yakiniku on this side of Hyogo, at Osamu and Rintarou’s invitation, who were on their way back to the city after a week away. Memories of easy laughter and the taste of warm food and beer still colour their thoughts in happy shades.

It’s not the first time Shinsuke is entertaining the thought of those two, happy together after having witnessed them dancing around each other for years, but it’s his first time voicing it out loud, to Atsumu.

Atsumu takes one long gulp and puts the nearly empty glass back down, mimicking the motion with his other hand until he’s got Shinsuke caged snugly between his body and the counter.

“We’re better,” he whispers against the tender skin below Shinsuke’s ear.

Shinsuke, who’s blunt to a fault, yet tends to overthink his emotional processes, and Atsumu, whose impetuousness knows no bounds in the face of something he desires. Rin, who’s a little detached from his strongest feelings, and Osamu, who locked himself up with his love for years, but who is, at the end of the day, the quietly ambitious half of the Miya twins. Shinsuke and Atsumu, who have been together since Atsumu graduated from school. Rin and Osamu, who have only worked themselves out barely a year ago. They’re neither better nor worse; just different.

“‘s not a competition,” replies Shinsuke through a chuckle, though he knows nothing will ever not be a competition between them. He feels Atsumu’s smile against his neck.

“I guess two equally massive shitheads would be good together, yes. I wish them all,” Atsumu speaks as he punctuates his words with kisses against Shinsuke’s skin, “the happiness,” kiss, “in the world,” kiss.

There’s truth behind his words, despite his mocking tone, but Shinsuke doesn’t push the conversation further. He’s tired, and Atsumu seems to be awfully preoccupied with different matters at the moment, such as latching his lips to Shinsuke’s neck and slipping his hands under his clothes, in search of warm skin. Tipsy Atsumu almost always desires one thing, and one thing only—to be close to Shinsuke.

Always happy to be on the receiving end of Atsumu’s fiery affection, Shinsuke allows himself to bask in the attention for a moment—until there are open mouthed kisses tickling his neck and cold fingers digging into his soft sides. The sudden cold feeling makes him wince, and his free hand wraps around one of Atsumu’s wrists, a silent request for him to stop. Atsumu retreats his hands and lips almost instantly.

Shinsuke puts his glass down on the counter behind him and hugs Atsumu, putting his entire weight into it and feeling his eyelids droop as he speaks. “Your hands are cold. And I’m very, very tired.”

And tipsy, and sleepy.

It’s Friday; he’s been up since five in the morning. He’d found it difficult to keep his eyes open through the duration of their short car ride home, lulled by the low rumble of the engine and the incessant banter between drunk Atsumu and sober Osamu in the front seats.

Atsumu nuzzles his cheek. “‘m sorry. Sleep?”

Shinsuke nods. “Please.”

They trudge to the bathroom together. Atsumu brushes his teeth, then leaves to the bedroom. Shinsuke does the same, but stays behind for a minute longer to wash his face. His cheeks and nose feel hot from the alcohol, but he doesn’t wait for the water to turn warm before he splashes some of it on his face, ice cold. The contrast is sobering.

When he enters the bedroom, the window is open.

“Did we leave this open?”

Atsumu is by the bed, rummaging the sheets for the ratty shirt he calls pyjamas. “Yeah, ‘twas open when I came in.”

Shinsuke hums, takes a few steps closer to the window and looks outside. In the complete absence of wind, the trees sit perfectly still, plunging the woods into an unusual kind of silence. A couple of dogs can be heard in the distance. The full moon peeks from over the top of the trees, casting its pale light through the window, on Shinsuke’s upturned face, and the brisk night air eases some of the heaviness on his lids away. His dormant tongue shifts in his mouth. Sleepiness feels further away than it did just a few minutes before.

Next to him, Atsumu steps into the moonlight and watches the quietude outside. “Pretty night,” he comments, voice low.

He’s unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt absentmindedly. Shinsuke notices it when he fumbles with the button once, then twice. On the third time, Shinsuke steps away from the windowsill and does it for him. Atsumu whispers a word of thanks.

He does the left wrist first, then the right, then one of the buttons that close over his chest, three of which had remained open the entire night. Moonlight shines on Atsumu’s bare chest, across his collarbones and the side of his neck, painting his skin in shades of blue. Shinsuke pops another button. More skin, more blue, goosebumps prickle across his skin.

“Drunk?” he asks Atsumu, eyes not straying from his chest.

“No. Jus’ tipsy. You?”

“Am too.”

Another button goes. With every button that opens, sleep loosens its hold on Shinsuke while Atsumu’s gravity pulls him ever closer, until there’s nothing left to unbutton, Atsumu’s shirt hangs open, and sleeping is the last thing on Shinsuke’s mind. He runs two fingers in a straight line down the sliver of exposed skin, from the center of his collarbones to the dip of his belly button, feeling the bumps of his body beneath his fingertips, observing the shadow his hand casts on his skin.

His hand slips under the open collar when he brings it back up, following the line of his collarbone. One side of the shirt falls off his shoulder, baring half of his torso. His other hand mirrors the movement, fully unveiling Atsumu’s torso for him to look at. Atsumu remains silent like the trees outside, unmoving as he lets Shinsuke do as he pleases without uttering a sound. His ribcage shifts under his skin with each breath he takes, the goosebumps spread to every crook and crease that comes into contact with the cold night air. He’s a living painting, a statue that came alive during the night, some sort of _magnum opus_ that only Shinsuke has the right to touch.

His hands move together this time, tracing his sides. Down his chest, over his nipples, dark and stiff with cold, across his abs, until they settle, for a moment, just above the belt that hugs his hips, before his thumbs dip below the waistband of Atsumu’s underwear to follow the downward divot of his abs, tantalizingly low. In the quiet of the night, in the silence of the room, the hitch in Atsumu’s breath is almost loud. His abs tense and Shinsuke sees it as much as he feels it.

“Shinsuke?”

The whisper of his name hangs between them. Shinsuke kisses the center of his chest, drags his lips across his skin, revels in his scent, before his forehead settles on his shoulder, eyes set on the view that spreads out beneath him—the planes of his chest, molded by shadow and moonlight; the highs and lows of his abs, the trail of hair that starts at his belly button and spreads down and across his lower abdomen before it—

“Shinsuke...” Atsumu presses his name firmly against his ear this time, so close Shinsuke can hear the wet movement of his lips and tongue, can feel his searing hot breath against his skin.

Shinsuke blinks, almost like he’s been roused from sleep. “Yes, Atsumu?”

“My eyes are up here.”

It’s such an unexpected jest, right here, in this moment, that Shinsuke can’t help the short, sweet laugh that escapes him. Maybe he _did_ get a bit too lost in the shapely wonders of Atsumu’s body for a long moment. Atsumu watches him laugh with his face split open in a silly, crooked grin, visibly satisfied with his own joke and the reaction it got out of him. He cups Shinsuke’s cheeks, round with mirth, in his hands and brings their faces close.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Quite so, yes.” Shinsuke’s voice lilts with residual laughter.

“Still sleepy?”

Short answer: yes. Long answer: cold water down his throat, Atsumu’s cold hands on his sides, cold water against his face, cold night air coming in through the open window. First, cold. Then, Atsumu, not unlike a final blow, with his open shirt and moonlight-sculpted body, an earthly temptation not even Kita Shinsuke is immune to. Little by little—the heaviness behind his lids, the sleepy haze clouding his brain—stirred by cold, then chased away by the sight of Atsumu. Exhaustion still lingers at the edge of his thoughts, in the sluggishness of his movements, but Atsumu had long caught him in his orbit, since the last button of his shirt came undone.

“Tired, more than anything, but—” he starts. The second part of his answer comes when he tips forward onto the balls of his feet and catches Atsumu’s lips with his own. Atsumu is quick to grasp the meaning of it, and he welcomes him into his waiting, open mouth, thumbs caressing the fullness of his peachy cheeks.

“Are you sure?” Atsumu asks, low and husky, against Shinsuke’s wet lips after their tongues have danced their dance. Shinsuke nods. “Then tell me—,” he’s gone a little breathless, “Please—tell me what you wanna do. If you really wanna do anything at all.”

“Anything—anything you want is fine.”

Atsumu searches his face. “Anything at all? Any special requests?”

Shinsuke takes a moment to contemplate his options. Then—

“Put me to sleep.”

Hadn’t they been talking mouth to mouth, nose to nose, eye to eye, Shinsuke would have missed Atsumu’s reaction to those words. But they are, and he’s able to notice the way Atsumu’s dark pupils twitch and dilate for a split second before they shrink back to their initial state.

Atsumu’s hands slide down to wrap around Shinsuke’s neck, fingers playing with the little hairs at his nape. He speaks through a playful smile, “Shall I tuck you in, then?”

“If that’s what you want, yes,” Shinsuke replies with a quirk of his own lips, though his grip tightens around Atsumu’s hips—thumbs dig low into skin hidden below the hem of his pants, as if to remind Atsumu they’re still there, waiting, expectant. “Better get in my pyjamas, then.”

He steps back, just out of Atsumu’s reach, and proceeds to unbutton his shirt. He watches Atsumu as Atsumu watches him. There’s want coming off of him in waves as his eyes follow the movement of Shinsuke’s hands, baring skin beneath the white of his shirt. It fills the space between them, almost tangible—Shinsuke can see it in the glimmer in his eye, in the way he wets his lips without even noticing he’s doing it.

With an effortless swipe of his hands, Shinsuke shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, but before it can fall off his arms entirely, Atsumu steps forward into his space and captures him with his arms and lips. His hands lock around the small of Shinsuke’s back, holding him close, his lips kiss him until all of their clothes have dropped to the floor. First Atsumu’s, then Shinsuke’s; with each piece of clothing that goes, tongues grow ever restless, fingers dig deeper into tender flesh, until there’s nothing between them but moonlight and the feeling of skin on skin, as maddening as ever, no matter how many times they come together like this.

Alcohol mingles with arousal in their veins and sets it aflame, turns them a bit more frantic, a little less patient. Atsumu steps back until he’s able to sit on the edge of the bed, gently guiding Shinsuke to come along with him. Shinsuke spreads his thighs on either side of his waist to sit on his lap. While Atsumu busies himself with important matters such as kissing his jaw and feeling the curve of his legs, Shinsuke tends to other no less pressing affairs—he reaches over to the drawer in their bedside table and fetches lube and condoms.

At the sound, Atsumu looks up. Shinsuke waves the items in front of his face before setting them on top of the table for easier access.

“If you want to, we can. I cleaned in the shower, before we left for dinner.”

Atsumu looks between him and the things on the table, then blinks once, twice, almost as if he—

“Do you not know what to do with me?” Shinsuke chuckles, Atsumu swallows. “Like I said, we can do anything you want. If all you wanna do is stay close like this, that’s fine. I’m just letting you know what other options are on the table.”

Atsumu hums and runs his tongue across Shinsuke’s lower lip. “I want to kiss you.”

“We can do that.”

Shinsuke slides down his lap until they’re joined from shoulder to hip and gives in to Atsumu’s wishes. When their hips start moving together like their arousal has grown a mind of its own, Shinsuke fingers himself on Atsumu’s lap, at his request. He’s able to feel how every stray breath from him, every pump of his fingers travel straight down to the heat between Atsumu’s legs, making him twitch between their joined hips.

Atsumu kisses and touches him like a man starved, no doubt amplified by the alcohol in his system, as if it’s been ten months since they’ve last come together like this and not less than a day. His mouth sucks on whatever stretch of skin it can reach, though he never leaves any visible marks. Instead, he does it for long enough that Shinsuke is able to commit the feeling to memory and feel it for days after, like a long lasting physical impression in the shape of Atsumu’s mouth, tongue, teeth, just prickling under his skin, capable of bringing him back to the moment when it was created. This time, it will remind Shinsuke of this, of them, a bit tipsy, a bit clumsy, in their dark bedroom with moonlight on their skins, being loved by Atsumu, even after he leaves to the city and doesn’t return in another two, three weeks, maybe longer.

When Shinsuke’s heartbeat accelerates, when his breathing goes ragged, when his mouth falls open at the feeling of his own fingers inside him and their erections brushing together, Atsumu is there to drink it all in—all of Shinsuke’s pleasured sounds, breathed right into his warm mouth.

“Wanna be inside you, Shinsuke,” comes the request, raspy, helpless. “Can I be inside you? Do you want me to be—”

Shinsuke whispers his consent against his lips before sealing it with a kiss. From the moment he’d dangled the lube and condoms in front of his face, he knew it’d be like offering Atsumu one of his favourite candy, but telling him he didn’t necessarily have to eat it. He hadn’t done it to tempt him; he’d be fine with whatever else Atsumu wanted to do, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite candy too, one that they haven’t had in a while.

It doesn’t take much longer until Atsumu maneuvers him from his lap to the bed, lays him down with a pillow under the small of his back, and cleans his lubed fingers with a tissue. A condom, more lube, more cherished proximity, and then Atsumu is pressing inside him. The feeling is familiar, yet brand new at the same time—being fucked by Atsumu never feels the same way twice; neither does fucking him.

He’s gentle before he gets rough. While Shinsuke takes the time to adjust, Atsumu presses a dozen more touches and kisses and loving words against his skin, until they permeate to Shinsuke’s core and take up permanent residence there, until he’s whispering them back to Atsumu, amplified tenfold.

Any remnants of discomfort soon give way to pleasure as Atsumu starts building up a rhythm that makes good on Shinsuke’s request. Atsumu fucks him diligently, passionately, without a single wasted movement despite his tipsiness, committed to Shinsuke’s pleasure more than anything. Shinsuke finds himself gripping the sheets next to his head so he doesn’t skid over the mattress with the sheer fierceness behind Atsumu’s thrusts, before he’s spun on his axis and onto his knees, chest down. Atsumu takes him from behind, until he inevitably misses the closeness between them and wraps an arm around Shinsuke’s middle to bring him up, pressing his back against his chest. Shinsuke uses the leverage to fuck down onto Atsumu as much as Atsumu fucks up into him, until they’re no longer sure who’s trying to put who to sleep.

Hands pull at hair, teeth clamp down on tender skin, heavy breaths and raspy moans fill the room. Shinsuke’s legs and hips start to cramp but he powers through it, encouraging Atsumu to keep going with words breathed against the side of his face. He asks, and Atsumu gives and gives and gives, boundlessly, until there’s sweat gathering on their temples, on the small of their backs, trickling down their necks, despite the room’s cold temperature.

One of Atsumu’s hands travels from where it roams Shinsuke’s chest to his jaw and guides their faces together into a sloppy kiss.

“I’m—I’m close, Shin,” he says, breathless, “can’t hold off for much longer.”

“Then don’t,” Shinsuke replies, just as winded, before he combs his fingers through Atsumu’s disheveled hair and pulls, hard, because he knows Atsumu loves it. “Let me feel you.”

All that earns him a muffled moan and a sharp upward thrust of Atsumu’s hips, at the same time that Atsumu’s other hand slips between his legs and pumps him in time with his movements, sending renewed sparks of pleasure running amok in Shinsuke’s veins. With a few more encouraging words, Atsumu comes with a choked breath of his name, seared between their panting mouths. Shinsuke feels him throbbing inside him as he grinds deep, right against his sweet spot, spilling his release into the condom. The feeling triggers his own climax like an avalanche, impossible to be stopped.

“Atsumu, _Atsumu_ —”

They’ve grown so attuned to each other that Atsumu knows, like clockwork, what it means when his name starts tumbling from Shinsuke’s mouth like that. Without a moment’s hesitation, he twists Shinsuke around, lies on his stomach, and tends to Shinsuke with his deft fingers and warm mouth, dedicated to work every drop of pleasure out of him until Shinsuke sees white and doesn’t know whether he wants to thrust his hips into Atsumu’s wet heat and tongue, or sink back onto his unrelenting fingers.

Shinsuke comes in his mouth just like that, with his hands buried in Atsumu’s golden hair and his tongue curled around the syllables of his name.

In the seconds that follow, he sees nothing, hears nothing, lost in the waning jolts of pleasure that keep shooting up and down his body, and into Atsumu’s mouth. Then, slowly, when the high fades, he becomes aware of Atsumu’s weight on his lap, face against his thigh, quickened breaths on his skin. As his vision clears, it focuses on the glistening skin of Atsumu’s back under the moonlight, shoulder blades shifting with every intake of air. Spent, drained of his energy, as if he’d given everything he had to give that night— which Shinsuke does not doubt he did.

He cards a hand through his hair, scratches the back of his head in a way he knows Atsumu finds soothing, grounding, then nudges him to lie on his back so he can drape himself over his side and hold him closer.

“You did good,” he whispers, as he presses little kisses to his nose, his brow, his cheek.

Either the words, the kisses, or both, seem to kick Atsumu back to the land of the living. One arm wraps around Shinsuke’s middle while his other hand cups his jaw. There’s a hint of fragility in his expression, given away by the furrow of his brow and shimmery eyes.

“I did?”

Shinsuke hums, brushes their noses together with a smile that curves his eyes. “Of course. I trust you to take good care of me and you always do, no matter what. You know that.” Atsumu closes his eyes, heavy with the feeling of being a little tipsy, a little overwhelmed with love. Shinsuke kisses the corner of one of them. “Spoil me rotten, you do.”

Atsumu pulls him down for a kiss, to which they both surrender with reckless, exhausted abandon. If Shinsuke had felt tired before, this little romp had certainly taken more energy out of him than he knew he had in him still.

“Even if I didn’t put you to sleep? Like you asked,” asks Atsumu.

“I think I will be fast asleep as soon as my head hits my pillow, you’ll see.” Shinsuke chuckles, low, fond. “Besides, I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to me that’d make me fall asleep with lube drying between my legs. Can’t have that.”

A grin starts forming on Atsumu’s face. “‘s that a challenge?”

“ _No._ ” Atsumu snickers, but he halts at Shinsuke’s next words, “Who would be here to take care of you if I’d fallen asleep, hm?”

“That’s a very fair point. Can’t have that, no no. Need my cuddles. They’re a basic necessity. Absolutely _crucial_ —”

He makes to embrace Shinsuke and roll them around in bed, but Shinsuke pins him bodily back onto the mattress. He tuts, “Clean first, cuddles later.”

“Oh. Right.” Atsumu nods, as if he’s only now remembering he’s still got a condom on. Shinsuke pulls it off of him and ties it off to dispose of it in the bath room bin.

“Now—can I go fetch something to clean you with?” Atsumu’s smile falters momentarily, as if the thought of being physically away from Shinsuke for a second more than necessary doesn’t sit right with him. “Or are you going to miss me the moment I get up from this bed?” 

“I’ll go with you.”

“Come on, then.”

Shinsuke pulls him from the bed by his hand. They walk to the bath room, naked and able to withstand the cold knowing they’ll be warm under the covers in no time. Shinsuke runs a towel under hot water and tends to Atsumu; wipes the sweat off his face and chest first, before cleaning off all other remnants of messiness. Atsumu stands very still, just happy to be taken care of, fingertips tracing featherlight patterns on Shinsuke’s hips.

When Shinsuke wets the towel again, his gaze lingers on their reflection in the mirror; standing in front of the sink, facing each other. Himself, comfortable in Atsumu’s loose embrace, determined to get them cleaned up before they sleep despite his exhaustion. Atsumu, no doubt lost in some lovestruck reverie as he observes Shinsuke—the real thing, not the reflection—with a happy, satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. His stomach protrudes in a gentle curve now that he’s not trying to put on a little show like he’d been before, when Shinsuke had been in the process of undressing him. It’s not like he _had_ to put on a show; Shinsuke is just as fond of his abs as he is of the natural roundness of his tummy, particularly after he’s eaten to his heart’s content, as is the case tonight. Atsumu is well aware of this fact—it’s just that he likes to show off sometimes.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” asks Atsumu.

Shinsuke’s attention is drawn away from their reflections back to the real Atsumu.

“You,” Shinsuke replies, like it’s obvious. “What are you thinking about so intently?”

“You,” Atsumu says, like it’s obvious. And it is.

Shinsuke smiles, but he finds he has barely any energy to do anything more than that.

“Sleep?”

Atsumu nods softly and hums, sounding just as tired. “Sleep.”

Back in the bedroom after they’re all cleaned up and proper, Shinsuke follows Atsumu under the covers after he’s closed the window and disposed of the spoiled pillow. Limbs tangle in familiar ways, the comforter traps their body heat and turns it into a cocoon of warmth, their lungs empty of air, of exhaustion, of a long week that has now come to a close.

True to his own words, Shinsuke soon surrenders to his exhaustion—but only after he cuddles Atsumu to sleep.

—

**Author's Note:**

> if it's your first time here, may i perhaps encourage you to read the rest of this series,, ! it's all set in the same universe~
> 
> as always, comments are v appreciated. would love to know your thoughts 😊  
> i'm on [twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/yoongoboongi)


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